The Candy Jar

I don't know how it happened. I'm not the type of person so desperate for people to come visit me in my cubicle that I put out candy in a jar. (Not that anyone else does that of course.)

I guess it kind of evolved to this point. A couple years ago, we all got a small ceramic cannister from a co-worker at a Christmas gift. Instead of taking it home, I thought it would be good to keep it at the desk and fill it, occasionally, for someone to come by and graze.

Besides, most of us are out in the field or in the production area when we work, so I thought little of it. (Kind of like the main character in "Better Off Dead" who thought little of the two dollars he owed the paper boy.)

Now I realize I may have created a monster. It occurred to me last week when Adam Thomas said something like "OK Giauque, where's the candy?" He's not the only one. As it turns out, my desk is now used as the locale for our morning story meeting. Coincidence? I doubt it. I should have gotten the hint by watching the receptionists in the newsroom. Occasionally they'll set out one of those big Costco tubs of licorice, only to see it vanish in minutes.

It also turns out you just can't throw anything into the candy jar. Mints, for example, are mostly panned, except for the life-saver Wint-0-Green mints that are individually wrapped. Chocolates have some drawbacks too. First of all, they're too expensive. I work in radio after all. Secondly, they go too quickly. Jelly beans are a good option, except I personally can't stand those gourmet jelly beans flavored like popcorn or coffee. I'm the kind of guy who likes to put a whole handful in the mouth, I understand that doing that with a handful of gourmet jelly beans is close to how cold fusion got started.

Then I found them. My two best munchie buddies, Mike and Ike. Forget that their main ingredients are sugar, corn syrup and modified food starch. They're fruity and they're not apt to pull the fillings out of one's teeth. They're mostly self contained - they won't mush together, and people seem to like them. In fact, you can't help but be friendly when you grab some. Come to think of it, I've never seen anybody in the middle of a tirade reach down for a handful and jam it in their mouth.

The only problem, I haven't been able to figure out is which ones are Mikes and which ones are Ikes. I also found I have to kind of police the jar, otherwise people who will remain nameless like Paul Nelson will sneak over, and pick out everything but the lemon and lime flavors.

I know I could simply remove the jar and tell people to get their own dang candy. But there would be some part of me that would feel a tinge of guilt every time I snuck a Mike or and Ike out of my desk drawer.